


Shadows of the Past Are Cast on the Future

by InsaneRedDragon



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 18:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8220353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneRedDragon/pseuds/InsaneRedDragon
Summary: Harry’s hand was gripping the gun in the bedside drawer before he even opened his eyes. He sat up so fast he nearly threw himself from the bed, arm out in front of him aiming at a man who wasn’t there. 

  Kill him, kill him, do it now before it’s too late, before he makes you a monster, before you’re irredeemable, before Eggsy has to...

Harry’s finger had just started to squeeze the trigger when he finally came fully awake and his training kicked in. His finger was off the trigger in a heartbeat, eyes darting around the room as he sucked in a desperate lungful of air.
--
Based on a prompt from Tumblr: Eggsy not letting go of Harry after a nightmare because "even if you're a killer, you're MY killer"





	

Harry’s hand was gripping the gun in the bedside drawer before he even opened his eyes. He sat up so fast he nearly threw himself from the bed, arm out in front of him aiming at a man who wasn’t there. 

_Kill him, kill him, do it now before it’s too late, before he makes you a monster, before you’re irredeemable, before Eggsy has to..._

Harry’s finger had just started to squeeze the trigger when he finally came fully awake and his training kicked in. His finger was off the trigger in a heartbeat, eyes darting around the room as he sucked in a desperate lungful of air.

A nightmare, or perhaps more honestly, his mind’s attempt to right a wrong before it happened, Harry thinks. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. If only he’d killed Valentine when he’d sat across from him, unspoken truths easily passing between them both. He wouldn’t have had his control, his autonomy, stripped from him. He wouldn’t have slaughtered all those people. Eggsy wouldn’t have found himself killing his way through a near impossible amount of enemies...

Suddenly, the gun dropped to the blanket and Harry was lurching from bed and towards the ensuite. He just made it inside before he turned and threw up all over the sink. Arms braced against the cool porcelain, he retched for several more minutes before finally spitting and turning on the faucet.

Harry looked up at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was a tangled mess, plastered to his forehead and neck with sweat. His eyes were wide and panicked, his cheeks flushed and his skin a sickly, pale colour. For a moment, Harry was thankful that Eggsy wasn’t there to see him like this. But as he filled a glass with cold water to rinse out his mouth, he realized that he had to return to an empty bed. His gut clenched tightly and he thought he might be sick again before it settled and he let out a disgruntled sigh.

He rinsed and spit until the taste of thai food and bile was finally washed from his mouth. A cool flannel over his clammy skin and a brush through his tangled hair had him feeling more composed, and he walked back out to the bedroom.

He stopped several steps from the bed. He took in the tangled sheets and sweat soaked pillow on the left, and the empty space on the right where Eggsy should be. There would be no more sleep, Harry knew, so he stepped back and took his robe from the closet before slipping out of the room.

The office was dark, the only light that of the partial moon hanging heavy in the sky outside the balcony doors. Harry knew it must be late, but other than the darkness on the other side of the doors he had no indication of the time. He walked over to the side table and eyed the decanter of scotch, but instead reached for the small wooden box tucked in behind it. He wanted something other than a drink.

Opening the lid, he pulled out a pack of Hamlets and a lighter. Harry rarely indulged in a cigar. Generally speaking he found smoking to be a rather unpleasant habit. But occasionally it seemed that that indulgence was the only thing that could stop his hands from shaking, or get his mind to settle. That is, until Eggsy…

Harry quickly shook his head to dispel that train of thought. Instead, he opened the balcony doors and stepped out. Despite being wrapped in his robe, the cool, fall air had goosebumps rising over his arms and the back of his neck. Taking a step back inside, Harry grabbed the chair from behind his desk and rolled it past the doors.

He ignored the tremble of his hands as he pulled out a cigarillo and lit it. For a moment he held the smoke in his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue, before tilting his chin up and blowing it towards the night sky. With the Hamlet between his fingers, Harry sagged back and down into the chair. He sat there in contrast to his usual stoic self, pain etched into the wrinkles around his eyes and the tightness of his grip on the lighter. He tried to let his go of the images of the church, of Valentine, of Eggsy’s wary eyes, with each puff of smoke.

Some time later, when the Hamlet was stubbed out and waiting to be thrown away inside, Harry heard the scrape of a key at the back door. There were only two people that had a key to that door, and Harry wasn’t sure that he wanted to see either of them. His swiftly beating heart betrayed whom he had hoped it would be when he heard the sound of JB snuffling at his water dish in the kitchen.

Harry didn’t move, he just listened to Eggsy murmur at JB and the quiet open and shut of a cupboard door. When he heard the telltale whistle of the kettle abruptly cut off, he fished out a second Hamlet and lit it.

Harry didn’t turn when Eggsy entered the room with two steaming mugs of tea. He kept his eyes fixed on the whisps of clouds as they drifted in front of the moon, free arm crossed over his chest. Eggsy didn’t hesitate at the cold welcome. He strode across the room and set the mugs to the ground before kneeling beside Harry’s chair to look out at the night sky.

“Why are you here, Eggsy?”

“Where else would I go, ‘arry? The bloke I love lives here.” Eggsy curled his right hand around Harry’s ankle and laid his head softly onto Harry’s thigh.

The tension in his legs bled away at Eggsy’s touch. He couldn’t control the way his body relaxed for the boy, even when he didn’t want to be. “How can you possibly love me? I’m a murderer, and...” Harry’s voice cracked, and it took him several deep breaths to continue. “And I forced you to be one too,” he whispered.

Eggsy’s breath was warm against his leg, a counterpoint to the cold air around them. “That’s true, but that doesn’t make you any less mine, ‘arry. It will never make me love you any less.” His hand squeezed ever so slightly on Harry’s ankle.

Harry’s hand dropped down to Eggsy’s head, fingers gently carding through his hair. He took another puff of the cigarillo before carefully passing it to Eggsy. Harry considered Eggsy’s words. He didn’t know how the boy was still able to forgive, after everything life had thrown at him. But Harry was a selfish enough man to believe that Eggsy meant it.

His hand slid down Eggsy’s neck to rest at the base as Eggsy took a drag and breathed out the smoke, letting the tendrils curl around them. They stayed that way, in silence, until the tea went cold and the sun came up.

**Author's Note:**

> Come join me on [my tumblr](http://insanereddragon.tumblr.com/) for story snippets and other fandom goodness.


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